


Lend Me Your Ears

by disamphigory



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Character Death, Crossover, F/M, I will gender my shakespeare how I want to gender my shakespeare, M/M, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, romans in love, seriously I don't know wtf I'm doing, small boat salmon fishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disamphigory/pseuds/disamphigory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I try to limit my sea-monster altercations to a higher weight class than sharks, Cassius.” Brutus said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend Me Your Ears

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for this dreck. A friend made me a fancast of Julius Caesar and this crossover was her payment. Enjoy the failboat-y Romans in Jaegers. Come for the angst, stay for the snark, get no sexy-times because no I won't write that.

 

It was never Portia's idea that they go up against the first category four _k_ _aiju_ that was spotted. To be frank, it wasn't exactly Brutus' idea, but he was the one to take the idea to Portia, to pressure her into stepping into the _p_ _ons_ , and he'd never forgive himself.

It wasn't Cassius' fault, either, although it sure felt like it. It was the rift and the glory and the _kaiju_ and the heady sureness that no matter the monster, several hundred tons of metal would win the day. They were practically _entitled_ to the corpse. Cassius had been easy to listen to, as another _Jaeg_ _e_ _r_ pilot and as a friend. Cassius was back with Cimber in those days, jumping from partner to partner and around the Rim in a speedy jet he'd paid for with the grateful coin of the citizens of Ecuador.

Ecuador was where Cassius has lost his first partner.

Maybe in another world, another when, the PPDC wouldn't be full of loose ends, lonely pilots missing wives and husbands and brothers and lovers. They were all deadly and trained, so no one really cared if they were dead inside. As the _Jaegers_ got bigger and were able to compensate for imperfectly matched pairs, PPDC started adding funds for grief therapists and stopped hiring new pilots. 

There was always The Wall, after all. What a fucking joke.

But at the time of Portia's death, Brutus was riding high on seven wins, two of them solo _Jaeger_. His favorite memory was Portia's snarled grin as they lifted the several-ton spinning chainsaw sword and buzzed the head right off their most recent kill.

“Hong Kong is this one's _third city_ , Brutus,” Cassius pointed out. Brutus looked over his shoulder at where Portia was chatting with Cimber, holding Lucius' leash. Portia's prize Chesapeake Retriever had adjusted well to their most recent move to Sydney, and someone had already bought the damn thing a squeaky stuffed koala.

“And that thing's third city is not Sydney, so you'll excuse me if I enjoy a bit of down time with my wife,” Brutus replied.

“There's fuck-all to do here, Brutus, and you know it.” 

“Oh, I don't know, I thought we might catch an opera, maybe go swimming...” Brutus began airily. 

“Punch a shark on the nose? I know you,” Cassius said.

“I try to limit my sea-monster altercations to a higher weight class than sharks, Cassius.”

“Then come on! We can grab Cimber and your lovely lady Portia and a couple _Jaeg_ _e_ _rs_ and wham bam thank you ma'am, we'll be back before tomorrow and you can rest easy. We're already on watch, right now. You can't relax anyway. Might as well head this fucker off before it hits a city that speaks English.”

Cassius was also kind of a racist prick, which didn't endear him to anyone in the Asian side of the rim. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you think that we couldn't handle the _first category four_ , Brutus old buddy old pal.” Cassius bounced in place.

Brutus gave him a long look and then turned to stare at Portia. Cimber was lying on the ground with Lucius licking her face, laughing. Cimber's last partner—her brother—had died six months prior. Portia was giggling along, holding a hand over her mouth and the other arm crossing her stomach.

She liked to visit every port they ended up defending, taking pictures with this stupid old-fashioned camera, wearing dresses that once made Brutus walk into a wall. She was a naval officer's daughter and graduated _summa cum laude_ from some place that mattered, and Brutus was just this fuck-up jarhead who knew how to throw a punch and keep on going. She looked best in mechanic coveralls rolled down to her waist and smudge of dirt on her cheek, and taught him how to tie a bow-tie for the asinine galas they got invited to as champion _Jaeg_ _e_ _r_ pilots. He'd never be this lucky again in life. 

She looked over at him and smiled. He nodded in response and blew her a ridiculous kiss, which she caught and brought to her face.

He turned back to Cassius. “I'm in if she's in.” The scar on Cassius' right cheek skewed his grin into a grimace, but Brutus knew what he meant.

“ _Pooooooorrrrrtiaaaa!_ ” Cassius called across the mess hall. She sauntered over, Lucius following sedately at her heels. Cassius grabbed Lucius' head and ruffled his ears. Portia, eschewing other seats, plopped herself onto Brutus' lap.

“You yelled?” she said.

“Brutus has something to ask you,” Cassius said quickly. Brutus glared at him.

Portia was raising her eyebrows at him. “Shoot, big guy.”

“So, there's this _kaiju_ \--” Brutus started.

“--Yeah, sucks to be Hong Kong right now, right?”

“Exactly. Cassius and I, here, were just thinking of seeing if they might want a hand.”

“A hand or four thousand tons of _Jaeger_ , you mean.” She didn't sound enthusiastic.

“Well, yes. They are getting clobbered, Portia!” Brutus said.

Portia pursed her lips and looked down. “Not this time,” she said after a moment.

Brutus paused what he was about to say and changed direction. “Why not this time?” he asked. 

“Just...not right now, okay? I was just at medical and---”

“They need our help, Porche!” Cassius interjected.

“Medical?” Brutus parroted, and began patting at Portia randomly, as if by doing so he could find what was so wrong that _medical_ had to get involved.

“I'm fine, Brutus. Stop worrying!” Portia laughed and batted his hands away.

“Our friend are going to _die_ , Porche,” Cassius continued from across the table.

“But then why did you say medi--” Brutus started.

“ _ATTENTION._ _ATTENTION._ _ALL AVAILABLE PILOT TEAMS SHOULD REPORT TO_ _THE DOME FOR DEPLOYMENT TO HONG KONG. KAIJU CATEGORY FOUR. I REPEAT, KAIJU CATEGORY FOUR._ ”

Cassius was already stuffing the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth and gesturing at Cimber. Brutus ignored the fact that he was feeding his french fries to Lucius. “...Portia?” he asked quietly.

She rested her forehead on his. Brutus felt her sigh. “Just this one, then. And then we need to have a conversation.”

“A good conversation?” he asked.

“The _best_ kind, my husband.” She leaned in and they shared a long, lingering kiss.

“Are you two going to mack on each other all afternoon or are we going to kill some _kaiju_?” Cassius yelled from across the hall. Brutus removed one hand from Portia's hip to give him the finger.

Portia pulled back and attempted to straighten his hair, smiling. “Time to suit up, soldier boy.”

“You just like me in uniform." 

“A lady never shares all her secrets.”

“You don't talk enough about those secrets, Lady Portia.”

“You talk to much, dear heart.”

“Make me shut up, then.”

“ _Gladly_ ,” she replied. 

“ _Mmmm._ Kinky.” Brutus put a note in _that_ for later. March 15 th, the day of awesome post- _Kaiju_ battle sex. Brutus could hardly wait. She got off of him and started walking away, clicking her fingers for Lucius, who scampered away from the gaggle of scientists where he was successfully begging for bacon. 

Brutus shook his head to clear his brain and clambered after her. He'd never be this lucky again.

“What's this fucker's name, anyway?” he called out as navigated between tables.

“ _Caesar_ ,” Cassius replied.

 

* * *

 

 

They ended up taking more than just two _Jaegers_. Brutus and Portia suited up for _Quiet Fire_ and Cassius and Cimber got ready for theirs,  _Chomper_. Cassius was no longer allowed to name _Jaegers_ , per an official PPDC memo, but _Chomper_ had already stuck. _Quiet Fire_ was what Brutus and Portia would have brought to the world in a child: solid and confident, sturdy and graceful. _Quiet Fire_ specialized in round-house punches and a one-footed spinning kick the press had nicknamed the “Portia Pirouette.” 

 _Chomper_ had a fast uppercut and could actually _swim_. _Chomper_ was the fastest and lightest _Jaeger_ built, many of the ideas taken straight from Cassius' old-partner's brilliant brain, not complete until after he had died. Cassius and Cimber had taken her from a few shaky test runs into a lean and hungry revenge machine with four solo kills to date.

And then they brought _Cinna_. She was piloted by two giant Maori brothers with cords of roped muscles and tattoos. Their names were nigh on unpronounceable to an English speaker, which meant that Cassius had gone the asshole route and given them nicknames. So the Poet and the Politician piloted _Cinna,_ which was noted for once _impaling a Kaiju on the stacks of a cruise ship_ in a classic wrestling flip. They took a few extra helicopters to move _Cinna_ , and Brutus was happy to have them on their side.

This was the best team you could assemble, and still the battle ended up a Pyrrhic victory.

 _Caesar_ was the biggest _Kaiju_ anyone had ever seen, and Brutus had met several personally. He, and Brutus knew that was sexist but there was _no fucking way_ this thing was a lady _Kaiju_ , if those even existed, was at least one and half times the size of _Cinna_ , which meant that Brutus and Portia in their mid-sized _Jaeger_ were suddenly quite small in Hong Kong harbor. 

The battle had been going for two hours already, and it seemed like Caesar was toying with them. They attacked in twos, allowing everyone a respite. Caesar batted their blows off like they were mice and he the cat, and Portia was beginning to look worried.

“Hey Brutus?” Cassius said over the comms.

“Yeah, fuckface?” Brutus replied, and _Quiet Fire_ punched at Caesar'smiddle, accomplishing nothing.

“You want to start cheating?” Cassius said.

“There are _rules_ to this madness?” Portia yelled.

“Not anymore!” Brutus yelled back, and looked at her and grinned, and there was his mistake.

“I think we can take out it's Achilles tendon-” Cassius was saying, but Brutus wasn't listening and was instead staring at Portia. 

“ _No,_ ” he said giddily, following a line of thought in the Drift and Portia smiled back. She was sweaty and beautiful and _why the fuck was she battling a_ Kaiju _of all things right now?_  

“Because I wanted to, and so did you,” Portia replied to his thought. “And _yes_ , it's true.” 

Brutus grinned and began to think of names, but the only one he could hear was his, and that was weird, because he never wanted to pass on his name, but... 

“Brutus! Brutus Brutus Portia Brutus BRUTUSPORTIA _BRUTUSBRUTUSWATCHOUT!_ ” Cassius was yelling and Brutus came out of the Drift just in time for his world to come apart.

Caesar raked a claw through the _pons_ and in one heartbeat Portia was....was _gone_.

The Drift was quiet and trailing like so many strings ripped in half. Brutus' mind went black, then a kaleidoscope of images and memories that Portia had left behind her, and then crystal clear white. He wiped sea-spray from his cheek and looked through the cameras on _Quiet Fire_ at his new enemy. Metal splashed into the harbor and he'd _have no body to bury_.

“ _Brutus_!” Cassius was yelling things into the comms, as was the central command, and _Cinna_ was hailing him, and none of that mattered. Brutus began to feel a migraine start from straining to control all of _Quiet Fire_ , and decided that he was done being quite so quiet about things.

With a yell, he wrenched control over the right side of his _Jaeger_ and pulled out the spinning chainsaw that Portia had insisted on when they'd been adding all the fun toys to their home lo those years ago. Sometimes the way to beat an enemy was to step in close, so Brutus did. He raised the sword and stabbed Caesar in the chest, which only moderately slowed down the _k_ _aiju_. So he stabbed him again and again and again. At one point Brutus thought he saw _Chomper_ doing the same, but the world was indistinct through the haze of an over-taxed brain and his hovering wave of grief.

He'd find out later that central command had been tracking the strikes, and it took twenty-five stabs to kill Caesar, and eight more before Brutus had stopped, but only to do something even worse.

Everything was confused and disorienting and painful and Brutus brought a hand across his face to wipe the sea-spray again and encountered hot liquid coming from his nose. He opened his mouth and tasted the salty blood and licked his lips again. He stabbed Caesar one more time for good measure and went to relax into oblivion when he spotted movement behind him. Caesar was not dead, and he closed his eyes from the salty water and turned all of _Quiet Fire_ 's weight into stabbing him, but the slice of the whirling blades didn't go through soft _Kaiju_ flesh as expected.

His eyes snapped open at the crunch of metal and he stared, empty, as the spinning sword revolved backwards out of the _pons_ of _Cinna._ He ripped his comm out of his ear and felt his stomach plummet.

 _Cinna_ toppled with a groan of metal and Brutus' career and any sort of moral standing he might have had, and Brutus used the last of his energy to sheath the sword and sink _Quiet Fire_ to her knees, mouthing words all the while to the un-seeing mist.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry._

_Oh, Portia, Cassius, I'm so, so sorry._

_I'm sorry._

 

* * *

 

 

“Seriously, how have you not frozen your balls off yet?” a familiar voice said from behind Brutus. Brutus sighed and finished tying a knot in his net. The smell of old fish and new tide blended together in the crisp autumn air.

“Nut warmers. Like those hand things but shaped like your mom,” he replied, and turned around.

“Took for-fucking-ever to find you, Brutus,” Cassius said.

“Maybe I meant it to,” Brutus responded.

Cassius paused. “I figured, after the last five addresses you gave to anyone official didn't pan out.”

“Don't really have an address these days.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm kinda seeing.” Cassius nodded at the dinghy where Brutus was squatting among piles of nets. “You got something bigger or does the motion in your ocean have small craft advisories?” 

Brutus laughed in spite of himself. “She's getting repairs. Had some rough seas recently and she got a little stove-in.”

Cassius stiffened. “How close were you to the landing site?”

“Couple hundred miles. Relax. No _kaiju_ for this bad-girl.” Brutus patted the side of the dinghy.

“And how about you? _Kaiju_ for this bad-boy?” Cassius ventured.

Brutus looked at the water and gestured to the nets. “I'm fishing for smaller fish these days, Cas.”

“Doing a lot of different things these days, Brutus.”

“Man's gotta keep busy, when he's a roamin',” Brutus shot back and set the net aside. He knew from experience that Cas wouldn't be leaving him alone anytime soon. Might as well talk someplace with heat. He half-listened to Cas as he hauled himself onto the dock and leaned back into the boat to fetch his cooler. Contents: sushi and a six-pack of Blue Moon he just about had to bribe someone to get.

“You've had fifteen jobs in ten years, and those were just the ones I could find,” Cas was saying. Brutus grunted. “Construction, but you sucked at that apparently; wait-staff at some resort; teaching long-board surfing, what the fuck; private security for some heiress; octopus puzzle-designer, are these even really _jobs_? And you know the funny thing?”

“Mmm?” Brutus looked down as they began walking up the dock to the harbormaster's office/gossip-center.

“You never went more than ten miles from the Pacific Ocean. Not once, except maybe to fly.”

“Never flew,” Brutus said, and immediately regretted it.

“Yeah, let's talk about your time on boats, shall we.”

Brutus flung the cooler in the back of his truck and stepped closer to the only flashy car in the lot—shit for winter driving, expensive as all hell, so _Cas—_ and gestured for Cas to open it. Cas wrinkled his nose. “You smell like fish.”

“It's the coast of Alaska. Everyone fucking smells like fish. Get the fuck over it and let me in the car.” 

Cas unlocked the car with a forceful push of the keychain button and Brutus slid into buttery leather warmth. Cas backed them out of the cracked-pavement parking lot and Brutus patted the seat with calloused fingers.

“So yeah, you spend five years on shore, basically, in the tropics and then come all the way up here, on _barges_ I guess--” Cas shuddered dramatically, “--and then nearly get your stupid ass _killed_ by signing onto a king-crab fishing outfit.”

“'S good money, crab-fishing. Or haven't you seen the shows?” Brutus said.

“Oh, I've seen all the shows _now,_ fucker. The fuck were you thinking? You could have _died_ out there!”

“Well, yeah,” Brutus replied simply. Cas looked over at him in the mirror and Brutus deliberately looked outside. He heard Cas let out a long, slow breath. The sun was setting in the early afternoon and the snow was an orange-pink Brutus was only just getting used to. There were a lot of colors that were specific to location. _Kaiju_ blue, uniform green, unconsciousness blackness.

“So what are you fishing for these days? Because I doubt you're going for crab, not all on your lonesome like that,” Cas said, changing the subject.

“Salmon.” 

“Salmon?”

“Yep.” 

“Like the shit you put on bagels?”

“Just about, yep.”

“And your boat?”

“Well when she's floating, she's a gill-netter, but right now I'm just set-netting with the dinghy while I wait.”

“I'm going to pretend I have any idea what you were just talking about.” Cas pulled the car into a spot at the only motel in the town between a truck and a muddy sedan.

Brutus followed Cas into his ground-level room and eyed the tacky bedspread. Cas had cranked the heater to the max and done that trick with the wet washcloth to push it even further. Brutus shucked his coveralls and was halfway through putting on the sweatshirt Cas threw him before he realized what it was.

“It's not that easy, fucker,” he said, throwing the PPDC training sweatshirt back at Cas.

“What isn't that easy?” Cas said in his worst innocent voice. 

“I'm not going back.”

“Who said I'm here to ask you back?”

“I'm not an idiot, Cas,” Brutus sighed and sat down in the desk chair. Cas took a flying leap onto the bed and lounged.

“Never said you were, old buddy old pal.”

“Speaking of—how the fuck do _you_ still have a job?” Brutus asked. “I thought they pulled most of the funding.” 

Cas stuck a nose in the air. “What I've got is _institutional memory_ , for your information. So, I've still got a reason to get up in the morning and a paycheck. And you?”

Brutus looked at his hands and started cataloguing hook-scars. “I do alright. Salmon's a good market right now.”

Cas nodded. “Uh-huh, and how about that reason to get up in the morning?”

Brutus pursed his lips.

Cas threw a pillow at him. “Thought so. You want one?”

“That's your recruitment speech?” Brutus raised an eyebrow.

Cas rolled onto his back and began clicking a pen he took from the bedside table. “Hey, if they thought fancy speeches could convince you, they would have sent Antony.”

Brutus laughed. “Antony's a sight bit prettier than you.”

“Fucker uses concealer on that scar in interviews. Dunno why. Chicks dig scars.” Cas grimace-grinned in parody at Brutus, who blew him a kiss.

“No but seriously. Brutus.” Cas rolled over on his side to look at Brutus. Brutus felt his piercing blue eyes all the way across the room.

“I quit, Cas,” he said heavily.

“I think you're on semi-permanent medical leave, actually,” Cas mused.

“I filed the paperwork and everything!” Brutus said.

“Yeah, funny thing happened when they let that bitch Calpurnia become General, though.”

“She still around?”

“Yep. Still strides around in that uniform, you know the one, and fired anyone who had ever made a pass at her.”

“So, again, how do you have a job?” Brutus jabbed.

Cas wriggled into a long stretch. “ _God_ I love that woman. I would walk across hot coals for that woman. I will, and _have,_ swum to the depths of the ocean for that woman. Hit on her? Are you fucking nuts?” 

“Where are you all now, anyway?” Brutus slumped in the chair and wondered when Cas could be persuaded to go on beer run.

Cas winced. “...Hong Kong.” 

There was a tense silence, and Brutus started laughing bitterly. “Aw, man. They should have sent Antony instead. _Whew_. Fuck you, man. _Fuck_. _You_. I'm not going back. Sorry you flew all this way.” He got up and began to wrestle his way back into his coverall, looking away from where Cas was lying on the bed.

He started when he felt Cas' hand on his back; he hadn't even heard him get up. Cas stepped in close behind him and tucked his chin on Brutus' shoulder. Brutus tried not to shudder at the familiarity. 

“We're going after the Breach, Brutus.” Cas said softly into Brutus' ear. “Come with me?”

Brutus bowed his head and Cas placed a hand on his hip, tapping out a nonsensical rhythm. It used to drive Portia up the wall. She accused him of having no rhythm, and Cas asked if she thought that last night, and she'd smack his arm and kiss his cheek. They were unusual together, the three of them, but happy. Brutus had never told Cas about what he found out right before Portia died. Had ripped up the " _One of you is a dad!"_ card he'd found in their quarters. Cas didn't need that on him, as well.

“The nukes.” Brutus finally said. 

“Mmmhm. Smart boy,” Cas responded. “The weirdos in K-Science have concocted something. They just need someone to point the weapon.”

“With you?” Brutus had never piloted with Cas before. It wouldn't be too difficult, at least not for the one drop they'd need to make.

“Who else, really?” Cas said and placed a soft kiss on Brutus' neck. Brutus cut off a whine.

“You just—just want to Drift with me to get a look at all those nights you missed when it was just P-P—Portia and me,” he joked back.

“I just kinda want _you_ , right now, Brutus,” Cas said carefully. 

Brutus looked up and at himself in the mirror with Cas standing behind him, one arm on his hip and the other crossing over Brutus' chest.

“You're going to need to put in a request for a bigger bed at headquarters, you know,” he said, and Cas' eyes lit up.

“You know I've basically just come up here to ask you to die, right?” Cas said.

Brutus huffed a laugh. “Of course. You think I would have said yes if you were asking anything else?”

“Just checking. Glad to know we're both completely healthy and stable.”

“Would we be us if we were?” Brutus asked rhetorically. “Now,” he said, turning in Cas' arms. “This is a very rural fishing town and I've been keeping to myself, so don't hope to be impressed by anything.” He carefully tucked just his thumb under the bottom of Cas' worn Seahawks t-shirt and looked up at him. 

“You were always so gifted with your come-ons, stud,” Cas answered by taking off his shirt. Brutus tried not to catalog the scars. 

Brutus followed suit and also stepped out of the coveralls.

Cas stifled a laugh. “What, did P-Portia get you those one pair of golden retriever boxers and you just kept buying the same type?”

Brutus stopped and gave Cas a long look until Cas looked a bit ashamed. Cas stepped in and drew a finger along the top of the boxers, contemplative. He looked up with a grimace-grin and Brutus just _knew_ what was coming.

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war?”

Brutus shoved him onto the bed.

 

 

 

 


End file.
